


The Scout and the Mage

by Regal_Alliance



Category: League of Legends
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regal_Alliance/pseuds/Regal_Alliance
Summary: It's a melancholy night shrouding the Institute of War, and for once the yordle mage Veigar has more than evil schemes planned in the dark. Fortunately, his companion might share his intentions for the visit.
Relationships: Teemo/Veigar (League of Legends)
Kudos: 25





	1. Tension

Dusk had fallen across the Institute of War, casting the walled off city in lonely shadow. Only a trickle of pale orange sunlight spilled onto its intimidating vastness, though much of the institution still pulsed with life, waving off the chilly night as it crept ever closer. A lone figure, hardly even a drifting speck in the enormity of his surroundings, hurried through crowds of gathering civilians and past all manner of clubs and restaurants, eyes cast downward in contempt. He never looked on any of such establishments, only ever glancing up to reassure himself that he followed the right streets. Anyone he passed payed him no mind, rather than dropping to their knees and cowering in fear as they often did whenever Veigar made himself apparent public.

_Ugh. The Public._

The unrelenting energy, excitement, and most of all ignorance of common folk baffled the dark mage as it always had; he wondered why it continued to come as a surprise. While he avoided associating with what he considered the clueless masses as frequently as plausible, he often found himself thrust among them in his daily agenda, a detail that never became easier or less taxing to manage. Their presence perturbed Veigar in ways he didn't fully understand himself, but what he did know was their seemingly bottomless pools of energy, the way they clustered together like bees to a hive...it was a sunken and twisted knife in his gut, made his throat smolder with worthless insults he wished to cast at them, and propelled his legs forward to get away from it all.

_It'll all be worth it, Veigar, just endure the rabble a little while longer..._

His nose was turned upward in permanent disgust beneath the hat he wore to hide his face, the only piece of clothing he retained from his usual wardrobe. The robe he typically wore was substituted for a plain gray hoodie that proved equally useful to hide under and a cheap pair of jeans, making up his disguise of sorts. Replacing the familiar clicking of his steel boots against the pavement was a lame patter of old, worn sneakers. In truth, he felt almost naked in the attire, entirely exposed to his surroundings.

_But such feelings should be saved for my destination._

He nearly chuckled aloud to himself at the thought, relieved to finally be turning off the main road and onto a cobblestone path less commonly traveled. His pace quickened as he approached the residential district, just when the last drop of sunlight disappeared over the horizon. The area was a plot of land equally large as the downtown area, but much more solemn or melancholy in its atmosphere. Decorative houses of varying costs and sizes followed one after the other, decorative as parade floats, perhaps some of the finest living arrangements to be found on the entire continent of Valoran. Veigar slipped between side streets, scurried across perfectly trimmed lawns, and cut corners anywhere he could to expedite the journey. He had memorized his destination's location on his few previous outings, so finding it was hardly a trouble for him. The aggravating perfection of the whole place was a bit maddening to him still, but more bearable than the commotion he had faced earlier.

_It's all worth it, all of this trivial nonsense, just for him..._

He turned onto a narrower dirt road and arrived at his desired location out of breath from half-sprinting there, sweat matting the fur on his forehead to his skin. He hastily ran through it with his sleeve and looked upon the house he arrived at with something akin to glee. It stood as perhaps the most secluded and unremarkable house on the entire block, practically a shack by comparison, tucked away in the farthest corner from the rest like a well-kept secret. Small, straight, and bare on the outside, the only noteworthy thing of mention were the sprawling hedges on either side of the front entrance, making Veigar feel as though he were stumbling into an overgrown forest. He allowed a moment for him to steady his breathing and compose himself, then started the rather lengthy march up to the front door at the rate of his thumping heart.

And yet, despite his growing impatience, he hesitated.

_Strange how, although I've done this numerous times before, my body always performs the same reaction. Ah, dammit Veigar, control yourself...the master of evil should not buckle so easily to his own emotions._

He rapped his knuckles against the door and waited with his hands clenched tightly in the pockets, his palms sweating, the rest of him motionless as the night sky. Clicks of the door being unlocked sounded from the inside, and a moment later, it swung gently inward.

"Veigar!"

Several seconds afterwards the yordle could vaguely recall something pouncing from the doorway and slamming into him with a greater force than any number of Veigar's own spells. Fuzzy tan fur invigorated his senses as he felt his face and body pulled into a warm embrace. His hat went missing soon after, perhaps knocked to the ground in the confusion, but in that moment, he didn't care. A strong pair of hands held him impossibly close to his captor, one resting on his lower back, the other wrapped behind his neck. Once the shock faded, the master of evil wrapped his own arms around his partner, closing his eyes so he could enjoy the warmth of the moment, and the innocent, rhythmic pounding the other's heart.

It wasn't until the attacker broke his hold on the yordle that Veigar remembered himself, suddenly growing flustered as all the heat from an instant before rushed to his cheeks. "T-Teemo, what are you doing?!" he stammered, scrambling to reclaim his fallen hat to cover his face. "We're not somewhere private...what if someone sees..."

Teemo chuckled at the sight of his visitor swirling around in a tornado of panic, staring in every direction possible for the threat of potential onlookers. "Relax, Vei," he said, placing a calming hand on Veigar's arm. "I've told you a million times, there's no one around here to see us. I picked this spot for a reason, after all." He gestured out towards the empty stretch of road behind them. "See? Completely safe."

It was true that the mage hadn't caught sight of a single soul anywhere, but that alone wasn't enough to calm his paranoia. He held his pointed hat up to block the view from the street before he spoke again, this time in a harsh whisper. "Oh please, you're a scout for Gods' sake! You should know better than anyone that you cannot rely solely on eyesight in situations such as these."

Teemo cocked his head and crossed his arms knowingly. "Situations such as...dates?"

"...Indeed."

The scout gave a hearty laugh, almost getting Veigar to crack a smile. He took one of the mages hands and said, "Well then, why don't we get you inside. Unless you think your imaginary stalkers are hiding out in here, too."

"Er...no, I...Of course I will enter, do you suspect I would waste so much of my essential free time otherwise? Just _think_ of all the evil schemes I could be plotting!" Desperately wanting to reclaim his composure, the darker yordle took the initiative and pushed his way into the home, half-dragging his companion in beside him.

Veigar took in a breath from his new surroundings, elated when he heard Teemo close the door behind them. He found the inside to be vastly more appealing than its exterior, about as tolerable as any a place could be. The young scout, he knew from experience, preferred to lead a simple life at home; nothing much more than practicalities and bits of furniture scattered here and there throughout its few rooms. The institution, ever willing to accept even the most absurd requests of its champions, remodeled the house's interior to take on a natural woodland sort of aesthetic. Each wall and low-hanging ceiling were carved and decorated to appear as oak wood bark, with large round openings connecting each cozy room to the next rather than doorways. The color red was also very prominent: a red tablecloth, curtains, and rugs contrasted nicely with the house's design. Either floors were polished hardwood or covered by warm red carpeting. Veigar admired the simple design and the lack of random, annoying nick-knacks that were so often thrust into every corner of any other home he'd had the misfortune of visiting. There was nothing to trip over, nothing to divert his attention aside from a few picture frames placed near the curtained windows. It wasn't hopelessly trying to be perfect, just inviting. If there were any abode he would rather find solace in than his own, this was the place.

"The walk here wasn't too stressful, was it?" Teemo cut into the mage's thoughts, moving so that the two yordles met face-to-face, a feat made easier by their near identical heights. Veigar lost himself momentarily in his companion's large brown eyes and admittedly cute grin, surprised when he found his hat being removed for a second time. The scout moved to hang it by the door, never taking his gaze away from the other. "I know it can get pretty busy around this hour. Not that it isn't anything my big, strong, 'master of evil' can't handle by himself."

Before the mage could find the mindset to articulate his response, his mouth hanging open with the effort, Teemo closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against Veigar's. He was silenced by the action, suddenly finding that drawing breath was a bit more difficult than the moment before. A pleased sigh escaped out his nose before he could stop himself, earning a slight chuckle from the scout. Teemo allowed himself to linger an extra blissful second or two before pulling back, leaving a hand to scratch at the thin black furs on Veigar's cheek, pushing back the mage's hood with the other. "T-the people were pests as always," he finally managed, a bit fatigued by the show of affection. Though, that was nothing compared to the grueling task of fighting back the swelling sensation growing in his trousers. "But...easy to tolerate, knowing I'd be here with you after it was all over." _I've stood here with you for hardly a minute, and it is already well worth the effort._

"Wow. And people tell me _I_ can get sappy sometimes. Clearly they've never gotten to know you like I have." He smiled to let Veigar know he was only teasing, helping the black yordle pull his hoodie up over his head. A few strands of fur on the mage's head were left standing awkwardly at attention, making him appear as far from sinister or evil as possible. "I'll have dinner ready in juuuuust a minute, in the meantime you can kick your shoes off and...make yourself at home. Okay?"

Veigar nodded, watching the scout turn and pad off to another part of the house, only just now taking note of his attire. He wore a plain white T-shirt and his usual green scouting pants which were cut just below his ankles. He was barefoot, which hardly came as a surprise to the mage. When Teemo wasn't out on a mission with his scouting boots, he typically left his paws uncovered, preferring the "natural," as he put it, feelings of blades of grass or carpets between his toes to anything else. Veigar did not share the sentiment, although he did reluctantly remove his sneakers along with his socks and left them in the foyer before seating himself at the dining table.

It was then where the smells of Teemo's cooking finally floated over like heavenly clouds to the young mage's nostrils, so enticing they made his mouth begin to water. If the collection of various herbs and spices in the scout's kitchen was any indication, Teemo proved a better cook than he would ever let anyone else believe. Though he chose not to talk of it often, Veigar figured the scout's culinary skills' origins were rather obvious; whenever he found himself isolated on his scouting missions, he was forced to cook for himself. Overtime, his knowledge of the forest, of which herbs to use and which were poisonous and so forth, developed into a bristling collecting of techniques which now blew Veigar away on regular occasions. This particular dish carried the distinct smell of Parmesan and some sort of tomato sauce, but a third, more savory stench eluded him.

He didn't have to dwell on the details very long. "Alright, I'm on my way out!" Teemo called, appearing around the corner with a covered platter in either hand. He set them down and doubled back to grab their silverware. "Hope your hungry, 'cause this stuff isn't easy to make!"

Veigar watched the steam rising off the shining silver platters with something resembling excitement. "If the dish tastes half as well as it smells, then I'm confident we won't have any problems," he assured the chef, managing a smile when Teemo returned to the table. "Besides, I know you garner enough enjoyment out of just making dinner itself. Whether or not I enjoy it hardly matters."

Teemo shot Veigar a look of disbelief, as though the mage had insulted his family or kicked his pet. "Of course it matters! You're _half_ the reason I go to all this trouble of making it so delicious." The scout mockingly thought about it, cupping his chin with his free hand. "...Maybe more like a quarter."

"Well then," Veigar began, "I suppose I won't have to pretend to enjoy this glorified pig slop after all." He locked eyes with his companion, using his magic to make them glow even brighter, yellow and pale and serene as evening moonlight.

Teemo scoffed at the warlock, but even through the long tan fur on his face, it was evident he was blushing. "If it's pig slop you want, I'd be happy to oblige for next time we get together. Until then, lets eat!"

Unveiling his surprise at last, Teemo grabbed the lids on each platter and lifted them rather ceremoniously. Veigar's nose had been correct in its assumptions; presented to him were two plates of pasta dripping with molten cheese and slathered in piping hot sauce, bubbling as if to mimic the mage's own starved anticipation. A variety of chopped up greens were carefully scattered across the dish, of which Veigar could not recognize any. Regardless, he was sure they would blend with the flavor wonderfully, as the scout had given him no reason to doubt his touch in the kitchen thus far. That was, until he eyed the smaller saucers resting besides the main course.

"Ah. Mushrooms. How hilarious," he muttered, exaggerating his eye-roll to assure Teemo could see his dark yellow pupils flicker.

The scout cracked an overly proud smile, adding to Veigar's irritation. "Oh c'mon, Vei, you knew I couldn't resist. With how often you're setting off my mushroom traps on the Rift, I just figured you loved them _that_ much." When the mage's look of disdain didn't waver, Teemo continued, "They're sautéed, not poisonous. I promise."

"I'm sure they'll taste delectable, so long as you cease reminding me of the league while we'll eating." Veigar allowed himself the honor of taking the first bite, reveling in the perfectly layered flavors of Teemo's handiwork. It was rare that he payed any sort of mind to what he ate, mostly seeing the necessity as a time wasting nuisance, but his companion's cooking was a completely separate matter altogether. He encouraged himself to eat more slowly and savor the taste, but eventually his hunger and the amazing food pushed him to shovel the meal as fast as possible without choking himself.

"So, you try learning any new spells recently?" Teemo interjected, hoping to get a bit of a conversation going.

The mage managed to pull himself away from the food long enough to utter a response. "Why yes, in fact, I've been studying the techniques another champion of the League I believe you're quite familiar with, Syndra."

The scout shuddered a bit at the name. "Ugh, seriously? She's so cold, I _wish_ I could think of anything nice to say about her! At least you spent the energy to think up some insults for me when I first tried talking to you, she just flat out ignores me."

"Her personality hardly has anything to do with her magical prowess, Teemo," he chuckled. "I have no desires to befriend the woman, I simply hope to discover how she manipulates objects spatially without ever coming into physical contact with them. Gripping, tossing, and shoving around those foolish enough to challenge me effortlessly...it is most definitely a promising investment. Typically abilities such as those stem from telekinesis, but as far as I can understand, her dark magic hardly resembles that type of power in structure _or_ in its aura. Now, you would think that with her powers being similar to my own, I would learn this easily, but..."

Veigar knew that he had likely lost the scout by that point in his rant, but enjoyed speaking of the subject so much he couldn't help but continue. He secretly watched Teemo across the table out of the corner of his eye while he spoke and waved his arms around like a raving lunatic. The scout leaned his arm against the table and rested his head in his hands in a lax manner, sometimes nodding or otherwise trying to seem focused in the pseudo conversation. Veigar knew from Teemo's own words that he enjoyed seeing the mage so passionate about something, since he often remained distant otherwise. The genuine smile playing along the scout's lips was proof enough to Veigar that he told the truth. Eventually, the mage wrapped up his lecture with a few words of acknowledgement from his companion, quickly returning to stuffing his own face with the scout's cooking.

A brief period passed where the two ate in silence, enjoying the food and each other's company. "Jeez, those loooong walks of yours sure do leave you hungry," Teemo noted after a while, having hardly touched his plate when compared to the warlock. Veigar nodded absentmindedly, barely looking up from his food. Sighing, the scout added, "shame you still live on the other side of the institute from me." And even more quietly, "If only there were someway..."

The remark had finally caught the mage's attention. He swallowed what was left in his mouth and said, "Are you truly going to bring up _that_ discussion again at this moment? After we only just started eating?"

Teemo didn't miss a beat, his gaze now a bit more focused, his fork only poking randomly at the food in front of him. "If we had finished it before, I might've put it off a little longer." Veigar scoffed and rolled his eyes, but the scout was unperturbed. "Veigar, you knew I would have to bring it up again eventually."

"Yes," the mage droned in monotone, "and I'd have thought you would have the patience to save the sentiment until after we finished eating."

"Don't act like _I'm_ the bad guy here!" Teemo shot up in his chair. "You barely even considered what I asked last time we talked about it."

_Of course, when am I ever_ not _the bad guy?_ "Babe," Veigar began, knowing that the word's rarity between them would throw off the scout, "you know I'm still not fully comfortable sharing my living quarters with another. Even with someone I...trust."

As he hoped, Teemo's fiery attitude already began to fizzle out. "I know, but—"

"—You don't deserve the sort of pressure that comes from housing and caring one such as myself." It was a lame excuse, but he did mean it at least in part. "Besides, I'd despise forcing you to cook for me all the time."

"...It's always a pleasure when I get to cook, especially for my favorite black mage," the scout countered, regaining his momentum. "I want...I want to be able to do it all the time, you know? Then we could see each other more, come of out of hiding—"

"—Who ever said we were in hiding?!" At that instant, Veigar dropped his fork to the table, his nostrils flaring.

Teemo hid his eyes in his hands. "No, I didn't mean it like that! I didn't mean it at all, I...ugh!"

"I thought you understood the reason our relationship could not be made public quite clearly."

"Yes, I understand that it's because your the 'master of evil' and your s-silly tough-guy persona couldn't _possibly_ be compromised!" Teemo rebutted, his own temper beginning to flair. "And that it's more important than us!"

"It's not, no, my _persona_ has _never_ been more important—"

"—Then why do you still treat me like dirt whenever we're not alone!?" Veigar stayed silent while the yordle dearest to him barred his teeth in frustration. "Why can't I tell Tristana, my _best_ friend, that you and I are together!?" He bit his tongue, almost able to feel the vile spit splashing against his face. "Why do you brush me off half the time I want you over?!" His hands curled into fists. "Why—"

"—BECAUSE I'M SCARED!"

The mage slammed his hands down on the table, causing everything to jump and rattle and threaten to tumble off. His eyes burned in their intensity, the space around him turning dark and smoky as pure energy crackled off his body. He watched Teemo dart backward in fear, the scout's eyes now teary, the liquid flowing down his fur in thin streams. Veigar watched in quiet despair as his companion's chest pounded in fear.

The only person who was ever excited to see him.

And the only person he would ever wish the feeling on.

Veigar, with a heavy sigh, commanded the energy around him to dissipate, his muscles to relax, and his nerves to calm. His eyes were closed when he spoke again. "...I'm scared because I haven't felt this way about any yordle in a very, _very_ long time. Perhaps ever."

He opened his eyes to see Teemo's expression soften the slightest bit, now more puzzled than anything else.

"I'm scared," Veigar continued, feeling his body start vibrate with the effort, "because I didn't think it possible for anyone to share those feelings for me." He felt his voice grow shaky, and didn't understand what made his spiel so difficult to spit out. It was an alien feeling, his stomach churning and his heart rampaging in his throat, making everything he said strangled. "And I'm s-scared because...the more time we spend together, the more chances you'll have to realize your m-mistake. And I'll be alone again."

An unavoidable wave of shame crashed into the yordle. Admitting his weakness, his fears, indulging in his own sorrow so openly, it was all practices he had abandoned long ago, and unearthing them now made him feel no less submerged beneath an avalanche of his own anguish. He shut his eyes tighter, finding all of his efforts to scale the mountain of rock and dust fruitless.

...That was, until he felt a gentle hand grasp his shoulder, pulling him into a warm embrace, supporting him as he felt himself begin to slip. The only yordle whose help Veigar would ever accept.

"Vei, you don't have to worry about any of that, because I'm not gonna let you go back to being alone. Okay?"

The mage made no sign of acknowledgement, staying completely motionless, refusing to make a sound. "I don't...I _can't_ be alone again, either," the scout continued. "Isn't that why we reached out to each other in the first place?" Teemo's voice was barely above a whisper, but rattled with confidence, soothing and reassuring at the same time.

"...I suppose it is," the mage uttered at last, opening his eyes and shifting to stare into those of his significant other. Teemo's expression was soft like the fur on his skin. Veigar could just make out the beating of the scout's heart from where his head lay, steady and light as an ocean breeze. He could feel his composure slowly returning to him. "I-I'm...sorry, Teemo. I would be...overjoyed to see our visits become a constant, truly, but..." _For the gods' sake, spit something out!_ "...I just need a little more time."

"You don't have to apologize," Teemo promised, pulling the mage even closer against his chest. "Sometimes I get so comfortable around you, I forget the reasons we found each other. I'm sorry I tried to rush everything. I could wait forever for you, you hear that?"

"...I hope for the both of us it doesn't take me _that_ long, but I appreciate your words regardless."

And the scout laughed, and it was as if the sun had risen and set, and nothing had ever been wrong between them. Veigar mustered a smile himself while he watched Teemo chortle adorably in his arms, although he could not quite shake the guilt weighing on him. _Soon, I will make all this right for certain. I will allow myself the pleasure and the danger of being in his company for the rest of my days. Because he is worth the risk._

_Because he is worth the sacrifice._

_Because Teemo is worth anything._


	2. Relief

The two had since finished their meals and now rested on the scout's comfy green couch in his quiet, cozy living room. Teemo had a fire going, its playful crackle adding to their newly refreshed spirits. Veigar found himself nestled in his lover's lap with one arm around the scout's waist and his legs hanging over the edge of their seat. They were talking about anything and everything: vague childhood memories, Teemo's exploits on his missions, their most hated champions on and off the rift (of which Veigar's list was staggeringly long,) and anything else the pair could think of to pass the time. Teemo often led their talks, and this was no exception; when Veigar did chime in, however, his train of thought usually carried on far longer than anyone else would have the endurance to tolerate. Unfortunately for the Swift Scout, he had dragged the conversation into a rather undesirable position.

"...Couldn't select a _single_ Demacian who has yet to irritate me," the mage said rather heatedly, his free hand waving back and forth as he spoke. "All they ever do is babble on and on and on about their grossly cliche ideals of justice and unity and color-coding their outfits. It isn't even _entertaining_ blather, just condescending nonsense! And they are especially guilty of chiding us yordles as if we were pets or children, hardly capable of coherent thought."

"Aw, I think that's a little unfair," chimed Teemo. "Lux at least can be nice, if not a little overbearing at times. And...you know, uh...there are others."

"Even you can barely bring yourself to defend them, hon. Clearly that speaks for something."

"Could we maybe change the subject? Perhaps to something a little less, I dunno, offens—"

"—And Noxians, I could speak ill of Noxians for an eternity and then some! If Demacians are to a rash, then Noxians are a cancer! If I were capa—bhmm!"

The mage was silenced by Teemo ramming his mouth against the other's. Veigar's eyes briefly went wide as he fumbled to keep himself upright, failing miserably and landing with his back against the nearest cushion and his lover's body weighing down on him just slightly. The air was sapped from his lungs, but he soon found he didn't miss it very much at all. There was no need for air in a vacuum, and at that moment it was as if a rift had been torn through Veigar's world and left him secluded, encapsulated with his only companion. He allowed his eyes to close and himself to enjoy the warmth that came from his partner's fuzzy lips against his, caressing the scout's built chest with one hand and pulling his head closer with the other.

Teemo eagerly agreed to deepen the kiss, sliding his own paws down Veigar's backside. He explored the mage's thin figure and sloping curves with his gentle touch, delicately tracing the shallow crevice on Veigar's back with his finger and causing the smaller yordle to release a reluctant moan. A naughty thought crossed the scout's mind, to which he readily heeded, grasping the mage's rear in his hands and earning a surprised gasp for his efforts. He felt Veigar's heartbeat fighting to break out of his chest as he held one of the mage's cheeks in each hand, giving the firm rump a strong squeeze and lifting him slightly to remind him who was in control.

Veigar was not used to giving up the dominant role in their relationship so easily. Perhaps he was feeling a bit tired from the trek he made, or a bit generous after the tension he had caused between them earlier, but each action made by his partner drove him further and further from a position of power, and he had done nothing to stop it. For every second that passed where he felt his face flush with growing pleasure and embarrassment, where his ass was fondled and molested, where an immovable wall of desire clouded his judgement, submitting became a much simpler task.

Teemo recognized Veigar was easing into his more passive position, and began sliding his tongue into the dark furred yordle's mouth, fighting to keep his dominance. The mage felt the wet appendage glide past his lips and between his teeth with graceful ease, hastily meeting it with his own. Warm, moist sensations like a morning fog drifted over his taste buds as the two wrestled, Veigar eventually giving in and allowing the scout's tongue to perform reconnaissance over the entirety of his oral cavern, leaving no wall unexplored. A light, playful nibbling at the mage's lower lip was the last measure necessary for him to lower what little of his defenses remained, and he began melting to Teemo's touch, clinging to him as if his life depended on it, panting like a mutt out of pure desperation.

A minute or so passed before the scout decided it was time to move on, pulling away from his lover and lowering him gently back onto his lap, placing his hands on the mage's waist. The two were left absolutely breathless, and what had seemed a mere distraction was now the sole reason for living as they tried to suck in as much precious air as possible. They locked eyes, Teemo's half closed in a lustful stare as he watched the other, and Veigar's wide open in shock, pulsing with dependence he wasn't even bothering to hide. The scout licked his own lips clean, using his thumb to wipe away any spittle left driveling down his partner's chin.

"You seemed to be enjoying that," Teemo said. He made his voice sound a bit deeper to reflect the mood, developing an air of cockiness he didn't wear often.

Veigar was stunned speechless for a moment, then, as if realizing the position he had put himself in, cleared his throat and ran his fingers through the fur on his head, anything in an attempt to steel his nerves. "Only a formality, I assure you." The two shared a chuckle, and Veigar became woefully aware of a hand at his crotch. "Er..."

"Only a formality, huh?" the scout teased, poking and prodding at the bulge that had formed in the mage's pants. Veigar hadn't noticed how painfully tight his jeans had become until Teemo's actions. Having him tug on the length certainly didn't help the situation, only making Veigar's face scrunch up in the mix of pleasure and pain. "For someone who prides himself on the mystery and illusions he creates, you're a pretty terrible liar, babe."

"I...erm...you can't..." Veigar had trouble coming up with the words as his partner's stroking became more intense, a teasing series of squeezes that were rough enough to be felt, but were too gentle to provide any lasting relief.

"What do you say we take this into my bedroom?" Teemo purred, having more fun messing with his partner than he cared to admit. "You _were_ planning on staying the night here anyway, right?"

"I-I...Y-Y..." The mage's hand shot out and grabbed the wrist of his lover, stopping his assault at last. "Yes! Please, I don't care whether you take me to a romantic beach-side hammock or a clammy old dungeon, just tear these damnable articles of clothing off of me already!"

The scout smiled knowingly and began to comply, scooping the mage up in his arms effortlessly and planting a quick kiss on his check. Veigar nuzzled his furry cheek into the mane of red fur that hung around Teemo's neck and closed his eyes, willing the journey to the scout's bedroom to be as short as possible. It wasn't that he did not enjoy his current position, but his patience had been eroded by the teasing of his partner. "Feel free to run, so long as you're careful not to drop me."

"As if I'd ever let that happen," Teemo assured him, his smooth tone spreading infectious joy to the yordle in his arms.

Teemo took long strides across the small living space, and they arrived at the scout's room before the mage had time to calm the rapid beating in his chest. Its size and scope were comparable to the house's other rooms, occupied only by a couple drawers and a bed barely large enough for the two to share. It was draped in, as Veigar suspected, scarlet sheets to match the rest of the living quarters. He shifted his weight as the scout moved to set him down on the carpeted floor, a soft material squishing between his toes. _A somewhat pleasant feeling, but nothing compared to—_

An unrestrained moan slipped out between his lips as he felt those of his lover brush the back of his neck. The scout's touch was soft as he wrapped his arms around Veigar from behind, caressing him against his chest while he began to kiss at the mage's furred skin. Ripples of pleasure shook Veigar's system from Teemo's acts, but not enough to leave him satisfied. Keeping one eye open, he guided the scout's eager paws underneath his shirt, shivering when his touch met bare skin. Teemo took notice of his advantageous situation, thinking himself a captain issuing silent orders to his underling with nothing but his presence. Veigar allowed the scout's confidence to build, releasing more ecstatic cries as his hips were being massaged. His rubbing was so sweet, so caring and gentle... _too_ gentle. "Squeeze harder, love, I'm not some balloon you need be afraid to pop," he said, somehow able to find the words in spite of his mind steadily going fuzzy. "Well, I suppose in other ways..."

Veigar attempted in vain to hold himself together as Teemo found the courage to press harder. Dainty kisses at his neck became a rapid series of licks and suckling, dampening his fur. He felt his lover's teeth press and slide against him, still too hesitant to bite. To make up for that was the intensity of his core being ravaged by the scout's shaking hands; what used to feel like kittens were now feral beasts rampaging along the surface of his body. They stomped and prodded at everything, from well defined abdomen to the faint muscles beneath his shoulder blades to the valley in the center of his chest, until no bit of flesh was left undisturbed. The mage's high pitched moans and grunts fluttered ceaselessly during his molesting, the confines of his jeans now more painful and constricting than ever. Teemo's own erection pressed against Veigar's rear end as if to tease his entrance, making the task of staying patient with his partner all the more difficult.

After minutes of the scout alternating between sucking on several different spots of Veigar's neck, the mage felt all the sensations leave him at once. He was vaguely aware of his shirt being grabbed at the bottom and tugged up over his head, leaving the upper half of his body completely exposed. Almost instinctively he moved his arms to cover himself, but the cautious weight of Teemo resting against his shoulders reminded him he was safe, and for the most part, alone.

"I-I'd say that's enough for a warm-up, wouldn't you?" The mage insisted, spinning to face the other yordle and taking a step back.

Teemo wasted no time re-closing the gap between them. "A warm-up, huh?" he said, cupping the mage's cheeks and jaw in his hands. He placed an earnest kiss on the bridge of Veigar's nose. "You're definitely warm, all right." The scout's eyes scoured Veigar's slim form hungrily, sending the mage into a furious fit of blushing. Seeing his partner stop to stare at the the bulge formed in his pants did nothing to ease his tenseness. "And from the look of it, more than a little bit excited, too."

Veigar pretended to pout, glaring daggers at his partner. _Perhaps I've allowed you to run a little too wild_.

"It would appear I'm not the only one." The mage's voice was a sultry whisper, commanding enough to coerce a man off a cliff. Grinning, he reached over and grabbed his lover's member through the softer cloth he wore and squeezed. Hard. He nearly laughed when Teemo jumped, looking bewildered by the sudden turn of events. "Hmph. Perhaps I was mistaken. There's hardly anything here for you to show me." He slid his hand up the solid shaft nonchalantly, as comfortably as though he were wielding his own staff. _A sizeable length in truth, but he doesn't need to know that._ "And why should I be the only one uncovered? Unless, you were scared to show me anything?"

By then Teemo had caught on to the mage's petty game, the two now staring into each other's eyes. A challenge. A standoff. The expression on the scout's face was impossible to read, equal parts daring and confused. Veigar was enticed by the thrill of anticipating what may come next, sweat plastering fur to his forehead. _What, did I worry you truly, Teemo? Will I have to move this forward myself...?_

Unpredictably, Teemo tore his own shirt off in one swift motion, discarding it along with the mage's. Veigar had a moment for his eyes to drink in the sight before him, and he was careful not to waste any of it. Unruly tan fur sprouted like wild grasslands around the scout's entire body with streaks of a darker brown cutting across his midriff and accenting his comparably lesser curves. He was well toned, every inch of him covered in lean muscle that was no doubt the product of his tough line of work. Far from burly or even stocky, Teemo's figure was still cute enough to be all that Veigar could ask for, even though the mage would never admit it out loud.

Without warning, the mage's gawking was cut short by Teemo slamming his lips against the other's. He stumbled over his own paws as the scout threw his arms around the thinner yordle haphazardly, their combined weight and gravity carrying them further. Veigar felt his legs collide with something soft and his knees buckle, letting out a pained grunt when he fell onto the bed beneath him and his partner came crashing down on top of him.

Veigar struggled against the grasp Teemo had on him, but soon dismissed the fruitless effort. The mage was scrawny in comparison; his legs were longer while his shoulders were much less broad, almost womanly in his curves. No part of him was particularly muscular, and he had no intentions of stooping so low as to use magic to bend his way out of the predicament. The scout had no problem overpowering Veigar and pinning him to the mattress, forcing the helpless mage's arms above his head.

_I suppose this is what I wanted, more or less._ The mage managed the thought while Teemo shoved his tongue through Veigar's defenseless lips, any hope of retaliation abandoning him. He rather liked the new position he was thrust in, anyway; the scout had one hand holding each of the mage's wrists together, the other searching frantically for the means to undo Veigar's zipper. Almost periodically Teemo released a low, pleased growl from his throat, resonating in the mage's mouth and forming a cadence with his own higher pitched whines. As the scout pushed further and further down, the fur on their chests continued to mesh more tightly together, interlocked like puzzle pieces that were designed to fit together. The tingling sensation this brought towards his core, combined with the submissive feeling of being held down caused Veigar's mind to race with adrenaline, nearly overwhelming his own senses.

After what felt an eternity, Teemo finally managed to undo the restraints on the mage's jeans, sliding them off bit by bit until they sank to the floor in a heap, which he kicked away moments after. Veigar's heart beat harder and the heat on his face became more apparent than ever when more of his coverings were removed, leaving only a pair of tented black boxers to sheath his eager sword. He felt himself being slid further up the bed so that his hind paws could no longer touch the floor, his naked legs left to dangle uselessly to the sides of him.

Breaking the kiss between them, Teemo briefly met his lover's anxious stare with a serene one, his warm brown eyes making a silent promise, though neither was quite sure of what. He then released his grip on Veigar's arms and shimmied down his body so that his chin was nestled on the mage's chest, holding his hips firmly to relax him and hold them both in place. Settling in to his position, the scout placed a few playful kisses along Veigar's abdomen, thick black fur tickling his snout and making him giggle. He took turns lapping at the spots on his partner's chest where he knew his nipples to be hidden, causing the mage to noticeably shake and vibrate from the torturous pleasure it brought him.

"P-please, no more teasing, my beloved," Veigar begged, craving some form of release above anything else. "I've waited long enough!"

Teemo mockingly thought about it for a moment, audibly humming to himself. "I guess I could give you a break, tough guy," he puffed, his actions clearly taking a larger toll on him than he initially led on. He slid even further down, leaving his hands to caress the mage's hips, now hovering just over his tented undergarments. "Clearly, you need one." He eyed the vaguely defined wet spot where the mage had already begun to make a mess, taking in just the tip of his clothed member and giving it a lick.

"T-teemo!" cried the mage, overwhelmed by the sensations swelling in his groin, feeling his prick jump from the attention. He was annoyed with his lover at this point. How much longer did he plan to delay the inevitable?

Veigar's question was answered when the scout curled his fingers around the mage's waistband, then, at an agonizingly slow pace, rolled his underwear down and over his erect manhood. Veigar uttered a loud gasp as his prick sprang from its confines and met with the slightly cooler air, the relief of it finally being unveiled running like a cool stream through his body. Teemo pulled the boxers over Veigar's feet and threw them aside, never taking his eyes off the sizeable length standing at attention in front of him. The mage's wand and balls were covered by a thinner coat of the same midnight fur that occupied the rest of his body, the former's tip dribbling with precum that appeared to glisten in the dim light.

Veigar watched abashed as Teemo reached out to wrap his diligent fingers around the base of the wand, brushing against the thicker bush of hair that surrounded it and beginning to stroke along its entire length at a slow and steady paced. He tilted his head back and rest it against the bed, overly sensitive to the touch of his partner after so much deliberation. The scout was forced to hold Veigar in place by his hip to keep the mage from squirming out of his grasp like a netted fish, but did not mind it too terribly. If anything, his lover's sensitivity, the feeling of Veigar's prick twitching and letting more juices out in sudden spurts only added to his amusement. Veigar knew the scout enjoyed feeling needed, and if the scrunched up look of desperation and sudden spasms rocking his body wasn't enough to imply the mage needed him, nothing could get the message across.

While the added pre began to run down to his fingers and help lubricate the cock, Teemo leaned his head forward, and took one of the mage's low-dangling balls into his mouth, causing the dark yordle to shudder. The scout sucked on the rounded testicle and rolled it over with his tongue, the musky taste and aroma that came with the act serving to turn him on even more. He switched to the other orb before long and delivered it the same kind of attention, continuing to pump his partner's manhood with vigor that surprised even himself. He found he wanted to do anything he could to please the adorable yordle writhing beneath him, and figured he knew exactly what buttons to push to get him over the edge.

The Scout gave one last lingering lick to Veigar's fuzzy balls before pulling away, seeking to claim his real prize at last. A bit of his saliva dripped onto the tip of his mate's member as positioned himself over it, gripping it tightly to hold it in place. Veigar heard him take in one big gulp of air before a pleasant, sticky heat engulfed the the top half of the mage's manhood. He clutched at the bed sheets as though he were about to float away at a moment's notice, and perhaps with his lightheadedness he would. It was all too much to concentrate on at once: the warmth of the muzzle working to encompass more and more of his length, the scout's tongue snaking around pole over every pulsing vein, his free hand returned to Veigar's now spittle-soaked pouches and massaging them relentlessly...the mage feared he might faint, but refused to miss a single second of the immense satisfaction he felt right then.

Teemo reached the bottom of the throbbing rod, his nose pushing against his mate's soft belly. Successfully over the first hurdle, he began working his way back up the shaft, bobbing his head up and down like a fishing lure in wild currents. The tedious, rhythmic motion allowed him to find a steady groove and let his subconscious take over while he focused on enjoying the bristles of fur tickling the inside of his mouth and throat, and the sour taste of his partner's precum dancing on his tongue. Veigar felt himself approaching his high, scratching at and shoving the scout's head harder against his cock. He thrust upward weakly in time with Teemo's bobbing and sucking, encouraging the scout to work as fast as possible. He felt something strong beginning to build in his loins, something that in some ways was even more powerful than any spells he could hope to conjure.

"I-I'm close..." the mage uttered, a redundant statement to the scout, who had picked up on the signs of Veigar's climax long before. Teemo kept to his pattern with stern care, eagerly anticipating what was to come next. As the mage's moans crescendoed to near shrieks of tension pleading to be released, Teemo moved each of his hands underneath the mage to his buttocks, squeezing the rump hard and lifting Veigar's hips even higher, completely erasing the gap between them.

The act proved to be the last thing needed to set the mage over the edge. He dug his fingers into the scout's fur, the room around them and the bed he lay sprawled on seeming to vanish in its insignificance. All that mattered was the intoxicating, unrelenting swell of pleasure rushing through his manhood and staggering his entire body. His hairs stood on end, his tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he released a muffled cry that only his mate could be graced with hearing. Sweet release washed over him as his pent up tension shot out the tip of his manhood in the form of warm, sticky spunk. Wave after wave splattered the back of Teemo's throat and his teeth as he struggled to hold the copious amounts of cum all at once. He swallowed what he could willingly, pulling away from the spent shaft to cough up the rest into his open palm.

Veigar permitted himself to bask in the afterglow, relaxing his muscles against the cushiony bed beneath him and catching his breath. The stimulus he experienced was relieving, like a cool glass of water at the end of a long hot day, only this had been a fair bit more thrilling. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes glazed over in bliss, soaking in the dampness of his fur and the lingering sweetness rumbling in his crotch.

His period of serenity was cut short when he noticed his partner gawking at his nude form openly, the scout's eyes trailing every curve, every morsel of cute, furred flesh, spending extra time on Veigar's now semi-flaccid member. Now that his adrenaline rush had subsided, the mage's prudence was returning, and he felt himself flush with embarrassment.

"Enjoying your little show, patter-paws?" Veigar muttered, turning his head to avoid eye contact but making no effort to cover himself.

Teemo's big, dumb smile did not waver. "Sorry, not my fault you look so cute laying on your back like that." He brought a paw to Veigar's cheek and spun him so their eyes met, the scout trying to convince him he had nothing to be nervous about with just his loving gaze. Veigar allowed himself to be kissed again, a bit opposed to the taste of himself on his lover's lips, yet he returned it all the same. It was a tender, more heartfelt kiss, not so much about one dominating the other as it was about sharing the affection. Teemo's nails scratched and brushed against the fur on Veigar's face, another calming message that coerced the mage into a state of content, one he welcomed without too much upheaval. _Pah, look at me. The Master of Evil, trapped beneath the soldier who was once a sworn enemy, naked as a babe and wonderfully enchanted with the whole situation. And why should I ever be anything less? Why should I let some arbitrary reputation, the worthless thoughts of the brainless masses control my actions to any degree? Perhaps Teemo was right to grow irritated with me..._

Veigar was startled from his peacefulness a second time by an odd fabric rubbing at his thighs. He placed a hand on Teemo's chest and broke their affectionate kissing, eyeing him curiously. "What the hell are you still doing with your pants on?" he asked, incredulous. "You _did_ intend to have a little fun for yourself, didn't you?"

Teemo blinked and managed a confused, "U-uh...um," the gears in his head working to churn out a reasonable answer. The mage permitted him a moment to think, figuring they were too far along for the scout to give up the upper hand. Eventually he smiled knowingly and said, "Of course, I just wanted to make sure I took care of your needs first, otherwise I'd never hear an end to your _insufferable_ whining." Teemo mocked the mage's own chastising tone, mimicking his air of superiority with less than convincing accuracy. "So I better not hear any complaining, am I clear?"

Veigar couldn't help but smirk at the scout's feigned confidence. "You won't hear a peep of protest from me so long as you strip off those damned trousers within the next ten seconds."

The bed creaked as Teemo stood up, reaching under his waistband. He made of show of pulling his pants and undergarments below his crotch at once, his member flapping out of its nest and swaying up and down with its momentum. Veigar couldn't help but stare at his partner's rod, caught in a sort of trance by its hypnotic movements. It was made obvious their previous interactions left the scout a bit excited; the rod was fully erect, a size comparable to the mage's own, its tip already moist with a collected sheen of precum. Avoiding the notice of his lover, Veigar extended his left leg and brushed the swollen cock with his hind paw, taking a single stroke from tip to base. It felt warm and firm on his paw pads, and the mage felt his own erection rapidly returning from the act and his vulnerable position.

He flinched when Teemo's hand shot out to snatch his ankle, gripping it protectively as though it were a caged animal attempting escape. "Naughty, naughty..." the scout murmured with a hint of seduction, stepping closer to the bed and taking Veigar's other ankle in his free hand. To his own surprise, the mage felt his legs gradually being spread apart, his saliva and sweat coated balls slapping unceremoniously against the bed frame. "And to think I was toying with the idea of being gentle with you..."

Veigar, despite his rather perilous situation, managed a toothy grin. "Who the fuck said anything about _gentle_?"

Not a second passed before he felt himself being hoisted upwards. Teemo hooked the mage's legs over his shoulders with one to either side, leaving Veigar's ass dangling in the air over the bed's edge. The scout closed what little gap remained between them until the mage's thighs were approaching a ninety degree angle. The head of Teemo's cock prodded and teased at his entrance, Veigar's own manhood now flopping backwards so it pointed at his chest and face rather precariously. It was a strangely comfortable, if not a bit daunting, position that Veigar found himself trapped in, and he was already long past the point of protesting.

"T-Teemo," he said through gritted teeth, "I'm serious about what I said. I want you to fuck me _hard,_ got that? I promise whatever you think you can dish out, I've endured worse."

The scout stayed silent at first, running his hands down Veigar's furry legs that bristled at his touch. He gave the poised rump waiting for him a good slap once he reached it, causing the mage to jump and wriggle in his entrapment. "Oh, yeah? Let's see how you feel about that once I'm finished with you..."

Veigar had thought himself well prepared mentally for the assault his lover had him primed for. All of that preparation dissipated once Teemo's tower of meat forced its way past the mage's ring, its protective owner releasing a shocked and pained cry. His inner walls met the rod as they would an uninvited guest, clamping down hard around its curved edges like a sprung trap and holding it at bay. He bit his tongue in a vain attempt to fight the groans of terror and discomfort rising in his throat, clenching his entire body as the alien sensation grew stronger.

"Ngh...you're pretty tight, love," the scout huffed, his own face scrunched up with the immense effort of sliding his manhood further into Veigar's well-protected pucker. Only about a third of his length had passed the mage's stubborn defenses, though more of it slowly but surely disappeared into the hole. He redoubled his efforts, making small thrusting motions with his hips to carve out a path for himself in Veigar's rear, much to the darker yordle's dismay.

"Hnnnghaa...Ah!"

Veigar struggled to enjoy the attention his ass was receiving, the battle of pleasure versus pain proving to be a strenuous one to be certain. Every inch of fuzzy flesh that slid further into him and expanded his walls was another layer of a bizarre burning sensation, like hot coals against his skin. Refusing to surrender, he gripped the bed sheets tighter in his fists and grit his teeth, fighting the urge to squeal at his partner to pull his member out.

After what very well could have been hours to the mage's mind, his lover's prick slid all the way to its base, somewhat tired hips resting against mounds of perked up flesh. Teemo took notice of Veigar's discomfort and waited patiently for the darker yordle to adjust, shifting slightly to a more desirable angle. "I-I'm ready, unless you've gotten cold f–mmph!"

Teemo wasted no time bringing his hips back and slamming them against the mage's unsuspecting rear, rocking both their entire bodies with the motion. Jolts of a stabbing pain shocked Veigar's system, but they were soon overpowered by the ripples of pleasure that warded them off. The mage covered his mouth and released a muffled groan, heartbeat quickening and his own arousal spiking once again. He gave up in his attempts to mask the sounds of sex that he knew would escape him and concentrated on enjoying the newfound joy in his lover's aggression; each time he felt himself penetrated the pain grew more dull and his nerves soared higher in bliss. Teemo's pace hastened as he became more familiar with the shape of Veigar's warm caverns, his manhood leaking like a broken faucet and providing a steady lubricant for his unrestrained thrusts.

"Harder, l-love," Veigar sputtered weakly, "you still haven't –AH!"

Veigar's back arched and his member throbbed in a burst of pleasure which shattered any doubts he'd still needlessly clung to. The scout had struck his prostate, the spark that ignited his senses and rocketed him to an otherworldly pleasure. "T-there! Again!" He was practically a mess by then, his gaping entrance quivering from the beating it was taking, his legs kicking frantically at the air, only held in place by the scout's strong grip.

Teemo heeded his lover's begging and jousted into the same spot, his content growls creeping out between his wide smile and mingling with the wails of the mage. Instinct propelled his hips forward and back, the sight of Veigar writhing beneath him and the desperation in his golden eyes making his actions second nature. Even as he dominated his partner, his prick engulfed in a homely warm and pulsing with yet unfulfilled desires, his balls fit to burst as they slapped against the wet skin in front of them, Teemo found his attention dedicated to ensuring Veigar was as satisfied with their encounter as possible. At that very moment, he spied the dark furred yordle's rod bouncing lonely and unattended in the chaos; the next instant he held it firmly between his fingers and was beginning to stroke it.

Veigar squealed and swatted uselessly at the hand mauling his manhood, but ultimately succumbed to the wild over-stimulus that came with being overpowered at both ends. He was baffled Teemo had managed to hold in his orgasm for so long with how huge his member had grown between the mage's cheeks; it had been thrust into him and carved out his insides so many times it felt less like an invader and more a guest of honor, the shared space belonging to both the yordles simultaneously. The mage grew hard as marble, already feeling that wonderful swelling sensation stirring in his loins.

Another minute, or perhaps a century, passed and Veigar could take no more. He attempted to warn his partner, but only primal, lustful moans sang for the scout's ears as the darker yordle's back arched and his churned insides released one last, spectacular burst of passion. He shut his eyes and shuddered when his own sticky seed splashed onto his face, squirt after squirt painting his head and chest a milky white until his reserves were depleted. Embarrassment may have come later, but in the heat of the moment Veigar fell back, ascended into a state of complete nirvana, happier than had ever felt in his life.

Seeing his lover cum must have sent Teemo into a frenzy. Following three full thrusts and an ear turning scream he came as well, filling Veigar's hole with hot liquid that seeped out and onto the cock that produced it. He stayed frozen with the two of them still connected, inseparable for a time, listening to the rise and fall of their stabilizing breaths, in a sort of disbelief over how strongly he felt about the cute and utterly spent yordle laying on his bed. Pulling out of the mage with an audible "plop," Teemo shifted him upwards so he could lay comfortably with his entire body on the mattress, then crawled up besides his lover and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"You were...incredible," the scout managed, using the bed sheets to wipe up some of the mess on Veigar's chest and his tongue to lap up the seed pooled on the mage's face. Veigar didn't mind the warm appendage at his face, nor his lover's softening member pressing lazily against his thigh. He lay there wondering how anything could turn out so perfectly, much less for him, a bitter, scarred dark mage with only a peppy, lonely scout for company. He wanted, no, needed this flawless reality for him and Teemo whenever possible, even as his better judgement argued otherwise. _Everything should be perfect. Perfect, yet there is one more matter that requires solving..._

"Ha...H-Had I given you cause to expect...anything less?" he jested, though Teemo did not stop his licking, wanting to make sure the mage was fully cared for. "Teemo..."

He hesitated. _Is this really what I want? To forever condemn myself here, in the arms of a yordle who would protect those I may still wish to harm? Who would oppose my evil at every turn?_

One glance at his lover smuggled beside him was all he needed to make up his mind. "I-I've given thought to what you've said earlier, and...it would an honor to live with you here. That is, if you would still have me."'

Teemo's eyes grew wider than saucers. "You...you mean it!? Vei...I couldn't ask you to do that for me so soon after—"

"—There's no need to ask anything of me, because I've already decided." He rested a hand on his lover's bare arm and played with the strands of fur sprouting there ceaselessly, until he could pluck all doubts from his mind. "You were right, it was my stubborn pride keeping me from here, but I won't let it rule me any longer. I want to be with you always, Teemo, and the insolence of others can do nothing to deter me any longer."

The scout remained silent for the longest time, still unsure whether what he was hearing could be possible and not an exhaustion induced hallucination. Eventually he leaned forward and kissed his partner on the lips, and any doubts about the truth of it all fluttered away like specks of dust on the wind.

"You need anything to sleep in?" The scout asked him once they were curled beneath the blanket, heads resting on a shared pillow. "I'm sure I have something that would fit you..."

Veigar shifted in Teemo's grasp, the scout laying behind him with his hands around his chest and their legs intertwined. "Unless you planned on other guests arriving, no. This will suffice."

Sleep took the tired souls soon after, and for perhaps the first time in an eternity, Veigar could drift off to sleep soundly without feeling so alone.


	3. Rotten

"H-hey, Veigar…?"

The mage's finger twitched against the withered cover of the tome he flipped through. "Yes?" he sighed, placing it atop one of the many stacks of books that encompassed his view.

Veigar was met with silence, followed by some exaggerated clamoring and finally a head popping out from behind the doorway of the small room. It looked at Veigar with big, innocent eyes, which only made him all the more skeptical. "So," Teemo's voice fluttered like a yordle tumbling down a human-sized flight of stairs, "you remember how you were telling me earlier not to try and stuff too many things into one bag? Even though we only have so much space and everything's gotta go somewhere or else it's just junk and—"

"—Tell me what you broke."

Teemo's nervous smile and plank-rigid posture betrayed his guilt. He was scratching at the back of his furry head as he said, "I kinda-sorta-almost snapped one of your dusty old…staffs…in half?"

Teemo found the words near impossible to squeeze out as an intense pressure began to churn around him, smothered by a heavy blanket of something unseen. A pang of panic rattled him when he realized that his companion's eyes were glowing a fiercer yellow than they had an instant before; more alarming was the tugging at his body as the entire contents in the room left the floor all at once. Bags overflowing with clumps of clothes, artifacts and knick-knacks stacked by the ladder, towers of tomes and the desk they had been resting on, even the near barren bed tucked into the corner began to hover, the lone sheet fitted to it fluttering as to fly off. Lacking the air to speak, let alone breath, Teemo watched his partner, unsure whether he should be more concerned for Veigar or himself.

As quickly as the force came, it subsided. The loose objects all fell exactly where they had been as though never disturbed. Turning away from Teemo, Veigar meant to focus once again on sorting the books before him. "Very well, it can't be helped," he said, eyes downcast. "We've only so much space and so much time to pack, and a long way of travel ahead of us."

"Oh, c'mon Vei," Teemo began, starting towards his companion. "If it were fine, the whole room wouldn't have gone all zero-gravity just now." He reached the other end of the den in almost no time despite the obstacles strewn about, laying a hand on Veigar's shoulder. "I should've been more careful with your things, especially the ones that are irreplaceable. I'm sorry."

Veigar shuffled in his chair to look up at Teemo, greeted by a soft pair of eyes, each the color of autumn. "Mmm," he hummed, placing a hand over the other yordle's, feeling the other's warmth as he squeezed it. He knew Teemo couldn't bear to see him so dejected; he had tried to prepare himself before the scout's arrival to his now defunct lair, doing a shoddy job at that. Maybe rambling, one-sided arguments against a fictitious voice in their head worked for some yordles, though Veigar discovered it quite tedious. This occasion would only come once for the both of them, and he knew the Swift Scout deserved him at his best, without that flicker of doubt prodding him for every article sorted, every page scanned. "Perhaps you're right," he murmured, figuring a bit of levity might help put their minds at ease. "It's not fair of you to break something of mine without some sort of…equivalent exchange." His eyes flashed as a look of terror shot across Teemo's face. "Seems as though I'll have to consume something of yours."

Even beneath a wall of fur, Veigar swore he saw the scout's face drain of all color. "Uh…I mean, that's not exactly where I was going with—"

Veigar silenced him immediately, reaching out and taking a fistful of cloth in his grasp. He pulled Teemo's face close enough to feel he was hardly breathing. "Your shirt. Give it, now."

Teemo complied, Veigar helping him get the plain white t-shirt off with little hassle. The mage knew he wore the thing out of obligation more than anything else, Teemo's current outfit now consisting only of his favorite green pants (and Veigar doubted the presence of anything below that). A now bare chested yordle watched in utter confusion as Veigar held the shirt away from his surroundings and began to concentrate. The next instant it burst into flames.

"Whoa!" Teemo yelped, watching a flash of cinders swell and disappear until there was not a trace of them or the rags they had consumed. "Oh, so you're a pyromancer now too?"

Veigar leaned back in his chair, grinning with content. "I'm simply a yordle of many talents."

"That doesn't bode too well for the rest of my wardrobe," Teemo said, not minding the costume change. Veigar figured he wouldn't, given how eager the scout often was to tear it off at a moment's notice.

"My handsome wood scout, every hour of every day trapped at home without anything to wear?" he mused, stealing glances at the exposed muscle before him. "How lamentable."

"Vei, you're scaring me."

"Am I?" Veigar brought his fingertips together, summoning an unholy expression on his face that would've given a demon pause. "Interesting."

Teemo swatted playfully at his companion. "Stop that!" he cried, giggling between breaths. "Gods, how do you do that with your face?! You're gonna give me nightmares!"

The smile Veigar hid curled to a frown, his face one of melancholy as he turned away towards his books. "Well, I am the Master of Evil after all. Or formerly known as."

Teemo's smile vanished with his partner's. "I didn't mean it like that," he assured him, reaching to cup the other's face in his hand. "You've changed so much from who you were back then, Vei." A gentle pull guided Veigar until he was staring right into Teemo's eyes. "You decided that's not how you wanted people to see you, and you changed that image. That's not something a lot of yordles can say for themselves."

 _You're wrong_ , Veigar wanted to say. In this place, anchored in the sea of magical trinkets and gadgets he sought to weaponize, strangled by the walls his isolated ravings had echoed against until everything but his own madness was drowned out, it was difficult to perceive himself as anything but that same evil being he had been for so long. Only a low hanging ceiling shielded him from a distant view of the very same city he spent months, hours upon hours of scheming at a time, trying to destroy. Only now as he reflected on his past misdoings did he wonder what the wood scout saw in him, wondered how he appeared to anyone on the outside of his muddled cage. _How foolish of me_ , he thought. _They see me as I am, as the evil that begrudged them for so long. No amount of cuddling up to their champion will ever change that._

"What's wrong?" Teemo asked. Veigar's eyes were clouded, a layer of mystery that worried Teemo all the more. "Talk to me, Vei. You know you can trust me with anything."

"I think you know what's wrong." Veigar's demeanor was a bit harsher than he intended, adding a bite to every word. "You know what's wrong and you're just desperate to hear me say it."

Teemo sighed. "I'm not here to persecute you Vei, I—"

"—You want to help, since you always make a habit of making others' problems your own." Veigar pulled Teemo's palm away from his face, his free hand gripping the desk as though to crush it in his fingers. "Have you ever considered that, not for lack of trying, you don't always know what's best for everyone else? That you can't possibly understand every solitary issue you trouble yourself with"

Teemo was quiet when he spoke again. "I never said that I…"

"Then stop acting like it!"

Silence. Teemo drifted towards the other side of the room not long after, muttering something about sorting the rest of the items he'd left unattended. That look of profound sadness on his face had shaken Veigar so much he could barely think, flipping aimlessly through the books he occupied himself with until he was unconscious to the act itself.

His past relationship with Teemo began…predictably troubled, to say the least. Bandle City's greatest soldier and its most infamous enemy had seemingly little common ground to speak of. They stood on opposite sides of a conflict, one thirsting for revenge while the other wanted nothing more than to defend the home he cherished. An inevitable rivalry grew, one built more on duty than any personal resentment, yet a strong one all the same. Teemo couldn't comprehend the mage's desire to conquer, Veigar the scout's dedication to protecting the city dwellers' freedom. He supposed a kind of hatred did fester between them as the months dragged on, each of the dark mage's plans foiled one after the other, his frustration consuming all sense of reason. This soldier who made interfering with Veigar's schemes a regular occurrence remained insignificant, just a mindless pawn put forward by his opposition to assure his failure; he was consumed by a desire to put an end to him.

One day that all began to change, the day when the mage was inducted (half against his will, mind you) into the Institute of War. From this new opportunity Teemo was no longer some obscured adversary, but a combatant he routinely encountered on the battlefield—and worse, begrudgingly fought alongside. They observed each other as though on opposite sides of a one-way mirror, bitter enemies looking for any opportunity to gain an edge over the other. Insults and icy glares between the two were traded openly. On more than one occasion did Veigar catch Teemo snooping around his private quarters, and likewise was halted on many attempts to rummage through the scout's personal possessions. Yet buried somewhere behind that resentment, Veigar knew he was developing some indescribable curiosity when it came to Bandle City's most infamous scout. Why were his living quarters so far removed from the other yordle champions? How come the mage never saw him passing anything more than a simple hello to anyone, with the exception of that insufferable gunner? Why, within that cheerful smile and dutiful demeanor, did Veigar sense such a hard, immovable sadness?

"Veigar?" Teemo's voice floated over, lifting him to his senses. He chanced a glance at his partner, though Teemo wouldn't return his gaze. "What's the most important thing in the world to me, besides you?"

The question surprised the yordle mage, though the answer hardly gave him pause. "Your Scout's Code," he said, the frustration he felt not absent from his tone. "I suspect I know where this is going. You want nothing more than to protect people, I know, but…"

"You're right, Vei," Teemo said, finally meeting the mage's eager stare. Veigar was relieved to discover the other's expression was soft instead of the anger he anticipated, finding suddenly he hated how much space there lay separating them. "Protecting the people of Bandle is my sworn duty. I live by that code. I consider it in every decision I make. Every day I'm out there as much as I can afford to make sure the city and the yordles I care about can live without fear. I rely on their trust as much as they rely on me." Teemo paused as if trying to read Veigar's face, and Veigar knew even without looking how uncharacteristically terrible he was at hiding his emotions right then. "Knowing all that, do you really think I would allow myself to be this close to you if I thought you were a danger to anybody?"

Veigar felt himself cracking. He couldn't help but hide his face, and his guilt, in his hand. He heard Teemo rise and begin to approach him for a second time, seeing only the scout's shadow in his peripheral vision. "You're not that spiteful, malicious yordle you used to be, even if you don't think so. Because I know so, Veigar." Two strong arms wrapped around him from behind, drawing him into an unprompted, but not unwarranted, embrace. "I've seen you grow so much from that cackling little warlock who tried to overrun the city with an army of giant cockroaches."

Veigar was entertained enough by the memory to let that 'little warlock' comment slide. "Giant _killer_ cockroaches," he began with a treacherous smile, "though I suppose you've made your point."

Teemo's grip around his partner tightened. "Of course, how silly of me." Veigar spun in his chair to share his newfound spirits with the body those fuzzy arms holding him belonged to. Teemo was so close their noses were almost touching. "Care to correct me on that time you summoned a hoard of 'vengeful' spirits that ended up bumming it in a tavern playing poker with my battalion? And losing, might I add."

Veigar took it upon himself to erase the empty space that teased him. "Not particularly, no."

Such strange recollections their banter brought to the surface, Veigar thought, lips busy wrestling with Teemo's, bringing to light those days where Teemo first started to change his mind. It felt another lifetime ago; Snide comments made in passing soon grew into heartfelt attempts at conversation. He told himself it was to uncover a weakness within the yordle, grip onto something he could use to twist and force his opponent into submission. But he knew better. There was no point in denying the alluring pull of the scout, the intrigue that sent Veigar's thoughts into a frenzy at night when no one could concern themselves with his obsession. Soon their talks grew more personal than either had intended, the cat and mouse game steadily giving way to something unanticipated. Teemo made the dark mage question his motives time and time again, until even he, the so-called Master of Evil, became unsure if his own rage was misplaced. Veigar's efforts for destruction had slowed; Teemo, having sensed his progress, had taken to inviting the now more approachable yordle to tea every now and again, then once a week, more and more frequently until their meetings had become a daily ritual. The dark mage discovered his dry, sarcastic and perturbed sense of humor could make the scout laugh on more than one occasion, and bizarrely found himself enjoying his companion's chuckles, listening to them roll like a snowball down a hill until they grew into long fits of belly laughter. He remembered how fervently he denied it when Teemo pointed out the first time he had seen the corrupted yordle wear a proper smile, how red his face had burned when the scout then called him cute.

Veigar broke their kiss, voice barely above a whisper. "I believe it's my turn to apologize, Teemo, my love."

"For what? Being so damn cute?" Teemo asked, feeling up Veigar's chest and collarbone like he owned them.

"I don't oft apologize for things beyond my control." Veigar feared the seams of his own shirt might combust with how Teemo was acting. "But no. For yelling, and more severely for worrying you."

"Oh Veigar, you should know by now. Concerning myself with you…" Teemo breathed, leaning in so his mouth came to rest beside Veigar's ear. It twitched when Teemo spoke again, dragging out the words, allowing his warm breath to wash over his partner's fur, "…will always be my pleasure."

Fighting the sudden urge to faint in his partner's arms, Veigar permitted his body be pulled closer and exposed his neck to Teemo's rampant kissing. Long before he had met the scout, Veigar's own sexual desires had gone dormant, stamped and beaten out of memory by his torturers in Noxus's dank cells. It wasn't so much that he resented his attraction to males, even before the incident that shaped the remainder of his life: rather it meant so little it hadn't occurred to him he could be attracted to anyone. He had committed to solitude at all costs, caring only to better his magical ability, and to conquer. Yet here this strange, lonesome yordle was, whose laugh could make him feel a chess piece balancing on a pin, whose compliments could make his stomach churn like a cauldron, who once did nothing more than remove his shirt because of a spilled cup of tea, and yet the act forced the mage excuse himself lest he say or do anything he'd regret. Even now, as Veigar recalled that night the scout pervaded his lonely thoughts as he stroked himself, the feeling of horror that branded him afterwards, Veigar felt a blush across his cheeks. What strange, constricting power Teemo held over him, like a hex and curse merged into one. Stranger still that its caster was once the yordle who almost single-handedly stood between himself and his ultimate goals.

"What's the matter Vei?" The question uprooted Veigar's seed of thought, Teemo moving back just enough to read the mage's expression. "You look…lost. Were you lying when you told me you lived here?" The scout flipped a page in one of the many opened and forgotten books with feigned distress. "We're not going through some poor old yordle's alchemy book collection, are we?"

Veigar realized he was staring off into oblivion and let out a cough into his arm, straightening the area where his shirt had slipped off to expose his shoulder. "I-I…my belongings, are mine alone, and, erm…"

Teemo didn't let him finish, practically pinning the yordle beneath him to his chair in his eagerness to re-close the gap between them. "W-what's gotten into you!?" Veigar cried at his partner's molesting, a pair of malicious hands snaking their way under his shirt to grab at his belly. A loud, hot moan escaped him to accompany a preemptive pounding at his hips, making rhythmic contact with a swelling protrusion that hadn't been there a second ago. "Teem—" His plea was cut off as he choked on his own garment being pulled over his head. "T-Teemo, we should get a _grip_." Veigar, now shirtless, ran a hand up his partner's bicep, the taut muscle making him shiver. "We've still so much to pack and I'm…I'm getting a little…" Underneath his tented shorts, Veigar burned. "…Distracted."

"That doesn't mean we have to stop, babe." In a move that Veigar, even in his current state of mind where his brain felt soft as jelly, had predicted twenty eons in advance, Teemo leaned his hips forward to rub against those of his unsure captive. "There's no bomb under the floor. No one's coming to kick us out of your super-secret-underground lair if we're not out of here by sundown." Teemo slyly gestured to the bed in the corner, his smooth talking and cool demeanor working wonders on disarming the mage. "That mattress's not gonna get much use for a while. Might as well give it one more night of action before we toss it, don'tcha think?"

Veigar's eyed his partner with all the apprehension of a sports-goer struggling to refuse a traveling vendor's cotton candy. "I…I…" His mind raced for an excuse, but the only thing he could consider was his fur raising where his partner rubbed it, the weight of Teemo's figure snaring him to the chair, and worst of all those burning brown irises, so sweet like cider, making the poor mage feel the biggest, most important yordle on the face of Valoran. How could even he say no under these conditions? "I…suppose it _would_ be a shame to let such a comfy mattress go to waste. What reason have I to refuse?"

An even wider grin fell over the scout's face. "It's my eyes, isn't it?" He added with a smug wink, "They can be pretty hard to resist when I turn on the charm, huh?"

Veigar narrowed his eyes. "Never mind. I just found my reason."

"Yeah?"

"I hate you."

"Oh, is that right?" Teemo allowed Veigar enough space to rise from his chair. "Five gold says I have you screaming the opposite by sunrise."

Pretending to be disinterested, Veigar leaned down to pluck his discarded top off the floor, folding it neatly and placing it on the desk as he spoke. "Please, I'd rather keep my coin. We both know you won't need nearly that long."

"I sure know how to pick the smart ones!"

"A great lay _and_ intelligent conversationalist. I truly am the best of both worlds." Veigar brought his arms around Teemo's built shoulders, Teemo's own hands resting on Veigar's hips. "Would you care to keep talking about how lucky you were to land me?"

"Spare me, Vei! My little heart just can't resist you when you get all thorny like that."

"You mean…horny?"

"Pretty sure I said thorny…"

Laughing as the mage flicked his forehead, Teemo brought his partner in for a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Seriously though, Vei, if you really would rather get back to packing, I wouldn't blame you. Honest."

"Oh no. It's far too late to play your bullshit goody-two-shoes card now," Veigar almost sneered, digging his nails into Teemo's skin, just enough for him to feel it. "You've gone out of your way to get me in the mood, and now I'm going to take what I want."

"Yeah? So, what exactly does that spell for me? Good time, bad time…?"

Veigar smiled. Teemo had relinquished his power to his partner, whether he was fully aware of his position or not. It was Veigar's turn to lean in close, make the scout release an anxious shiver with only his voice, a sheet of ice dripping down his back. "Don't you worry yourself with the details. I'll be sure to make this fun for the both of us…"

Sudden as the tides Veigar crashed his lips against Teemo's, forcing him backwards and nearly head over heels as the lovers tripped over one of the many trinkets littering the ground. Eventually they stumbled into the bedframe, Veigar falling on top of Teemo and buying himself enough time to snag his fingertips on the waistband of the scout's shorts. Veigar's inexperience in the dominant role led him to deciding his next moves on the fly with, in his mind, a little too much deliberation. He brought a shaking hand to the back of his partner's head and started scratching at the thick fur that sprouted there, simultaneously shoving Teemo's face the slightest bit closer. Their tongues wrestled as the mage's back was caressed, eroding any semblance of Veigar's concentration that lingered. Teemo payed special attention to every crevice and muscle, every peak and valley with a greater care that Veigar lacked. Already his façade was slipping: subconsciously the scout assumed the role that was more familiar, overtaking Veigar at the battle between their lips, dragging him forward until he was resting on his lap, unzipping the mage's shorts at a meticulous pace.

Veigar hadn't noticed how uncomfortable his hardness had been until his cock was free; he would've sighed in relief had his mouth not been so preoccupied elsewhere. This was a betrayal of his original intentions, yet as he was stroked and fondled he found it impossible to care. Teemo's touch was practiced, not too delicate and not too rough, just as Veigar liked it. His grip on his partner's trousers loosened as he uncoupled their lips to rest his chin on Teemo's shoulder, panting. Teemo leaned against him and continued to tug at his bloated shaft, tightening and loosening his grip as though responding to Veigar's high-pitched cries, which he made no effort to conceal. Back and forth, back and forth the digits glided along the rapidly slickening member, Veigar leaking further with every movement. A budding pressuring had gathered in his sensitive staff, threatening to bloom as soon as it appeared. Veigar shut his eyes.

He could feel Teemo's surprise at his premature burst, the scout jumping slightly when the warm liquid first made contact on his front. Shot after shot pelted Teemo's belly and coated it in its blinding white essence until he had no more seed left to give. Taking a deep breath, Veigar lifted himself off Teemo just enough to get a look at the mess he made, blushing furiously at the size of it, how it covered even the tops of the scout's pants in a dark, wet stain. "…I-I, um…"

"Wow," Teemo breathed, cupping Veigar's face. He spoke softly, likely sensing the powerful mage's embarrassment. "You've been holding that one in for a while, haven't you?"

For once, Veigar didn't bother attempting to explain himself. Remembering his initial goal, along with his stubborn pride resurfacing, Veigar found it difficult to meet Teemo's gaze.

"Hey, it's fine. There's no reason to be embarrassed, you've definitely outlasted me in the past." Teemo used the bedsheet to wipe off what he could of Veigar's spunk. He had the nerve to smile as he reached down to remove his trousers. "And if it's the stains you're worried about, I'm sure they'll come out with a little elbow gr—"

"—Don't you dare." Veigar himself wasn't exactly sure where the outburst had come from. One moment he was sitting in shame, the next reaching to snatch the scout's wrist in an iron grip. Teemo stared at him in wide-eyed confusion. It was too late to compose himself now. Veigar swallowed before continuing, "I sought to take what I want from you, and I still intend to. There will be no more…disobeying…from here on out. Is that clear?"

Slowly, Teemo began to comprehend his partner's intentions. "Veigar…"

Veigar's tongue was dripping with malice, his eyes narrowed into icy slits. "Is. That. Clear?"

The tension between the two was palpable, so thick and heavy Veigar feared it would suffocate the desire Teemo held for him. When he spoke again, Teemo's face was unreadable. "Yes, sir."

"Good," Veigar said assertively, choking down the wave of relief he wanted to let out. With Teemo's consent, Veigar pushed him so his back lay along the long side of the bed, kicking off his lingering shorts in the process. From above him Veigar attempted to gauge his lover's reaction; Teemo was blank as a sheet of paper, save for the bit of color Veigar observed under the scout's eyes. _Perhaps the mood isn't completely lost_ , he thought, pinning Teemo's arms and legs to the bed with his weight. He brought his head under his partner's crimson mane of fur and dug his face into his chest, greeted by the earthy musk Teemo wore so often from his missions in the woodlands. Veigar planted a gentle kiss meant to lower Teemo's defenses, and within the same motion sunk his teeth into his bare shoulder.

"Aah!" Teemo yelped, shivering when he realized the bite wasn't hard enough to break his skin. Veigar hummed in satisfaction at having finally raised a reaction out of his partner. He started to work his way lower, planting kisses and bites all along the scout's body where he deemed appropriate, never quite letting him grow comfortable with the mage's approach. That distinct woodland smell pervaded with every move Veigar made, filling his nose and his every thought, his very consciousness. On multiple occasions he thought he may lose sight of his objective, left to wander the thick brush of his partner's chest for all eternity.

That fear subsided when his lips met with cloth instead of skin and fur, and that forest scent became muddled in what Veigar recognized as his own. He lifted his head to look on the stained waistband of his partner's pants and brought his fingers beneath it. Free from interruptions, he made a show of pulling them down over Teemo's crotch, happy to be met with a three-quarters hard cock springing to life inches from his maw. He permitted Teemo to assist in getting the damned shorts off, meeting the scout's gaze as he tossed them aside. To his pleasure, Teemo appeared to be getting into it at least, his eyes narrowed and burning with curiosity. Veigar didn't waste any time in issuing his next command.

"Spread your legs for me. Now."

Teemo complied immediately, giving Veigar exactly what he wanted: easy to access to the scout's finest assets. Veigar got low, low enough to be at eye-level with his partner's aching sack. _Now this, I'm familiar with._ He held Teemo's legs apart, drawing close to his prey. With half-lidded eyes he let his tongue cup the underside of Teemo's balls, pushing his nose up and into the rapidly thickening meat stick hovering above him as he trailed his tongue over those warm, sagging orbs, the fuzziness lighting his wet appendage aflame. Predictably, Teemo jumped as he did so, held in place only by the mage's stubborn grip at his ankles.

One sample was all that he needed to become addicted. Veigar drew the sopping pair into his mouth as best he could, distantly aware of his own erection stabbing the unfortunate mattress that bore it. A chorus of moan's serenaded him, coerced him into an attempt to fit as much of the furry sack as he could in his warm, fleshy pocket. It was a tight fit: Teemo's balls threatened to spill out the mage's chops with one false move, a challenge Veigar welcomed. Their tangy taste washed over him, drowning out his other senses as he rolled them up, over and finally out, setting his sights on the throbbing obelisk that towered overhead.

Veigar grabbed it by the base and gave it a squeeze; its owner cried out as though the mage had gone to cause it harm. Finding his lover's pink pleasure throttle hard as bone and his knuckles turning white as one, Veigar held it in place and brought his mouth to its side. A long breath escaped out his nose the instant his mouth encompassed Teemo's cock, his tongue ignited by the new surface. He bit down ever so slightly, wanting to hold it there, to capture it in his jaws, cradle it in his maw. It made him feel so powerful, so consumed by control, so…

"Mmahh…" Teemo's loudest and hottest moan yet caused Veigar's ears to flicker. The noise was accompanied by a sudden move to caress the unsuspecting mage's head; Veigar felt himself being halted in his tracks, losing his toothy hold on the quivering dick, and guided roughly towards the tip of Teemo's leaking member. It prodded his cheek and left a messy mark, Teemo drabbling on all the while, "Oh, Veigar~, don't make me w—Ah!"

Veigar's cruelty surprised even himself: Teemo made a sound like the mage had cast a hex on him when Veigar constricted Teemo's balls with his fingers. While Teemo lay in shock, Veigar pushed the scout's all too eager arms away, glaring fiercely at his captive. "No touching, no speaking," he said with a serpent's tongue, refusing to loosen his grip. "Those are your orders, though I presumed they went without saying. Is that to be respected?"

Teemo began to sputter something incomprehensible, then, remembering the second rule, nodded so hard Veigar feared he might snap his own neck. Satisfied, Veigar released his partner's poor privates, focusing again on his prize. He was elated to find Teemo's hardness had persisted, and although he was ready to return it to his maw, the scout hadn't yet earned that privilege. He gave it a tug or two; whimpers each time. A bit of pre had sputtered and dribbled down its length, and although Veigar enjoyed a bit of a mess he couldn't help but lap it up. But his excitement was measured, calculated. A kiss here, a lick there, but never did he indulge on the swollen prick that screamed for his attention. His own restraint impressed him. His significant other, however, seemed less than thrilled. "New order, my pet," Veigar mewled, meeting his partner's beaming, desperate stare. His plan to whittle down Teemo's defenses had worked like a charm: his partner had become an unsteady mess, the fur all across his body standing on edge, an ungrounded electric current jolting through him. "If you truly want this teasing to be over with so badly, you're going to have to convince me you're worth the effort." The sound that oozed from betwixt Veigar's grinning jaws was barely recognizable as his own. "Beg."

Veigar was sure his delivery had been stomach-churning; Teemo appeared moderately startled at best. It wasn't until the warlock gave him a look that was more patronizing than intimidating that Teemo processed the demand. "Oh! Oh, um, p-please Vei, I need you more than _anything_ , please!" he cried.

"Hmph." Veigar scoffed. His partner's theatric talents could use more than a little ironing out; though underwhelmed with the performance, he couldn't quell his own yearning any longer. Leaning in, he returned Teemo's shaft to where it belonged, holding just the tip in his jaws before sliding further along it. Teemo's low, relieved whine made Veigar's ears twitch, suffocating any need he held other than to attend to his love-starved pet. His unoccupied hand massaged Teemo's thigh as more of the pulsing organ filled him; whether the act calmed Teemo or only served to excite him further, he didn't know. What he did know was his partner's taste dripping onto his tongue, the itch of the unruly brush of red hair that tickled his nose, the crushing pressure of fitting the entire length in oral cavern lest he disappoint his partner.

Perhaps that fear was mute, Veigar thought, if the moans Teemo was making were any indication of Veigar's skill. Though he may have kept to Veigar's 'no touching' rule, that didn't stop Teemo from expressing his satisfaction in other ways, from the cute noises to the generous amount of pre lining the back of Veigar's throat. After struggling his way to the bottom of the meat rod, Veigar began to work his way back up, careful to keep from gagging or spitting the thing out entirely. A bit of spit now coated the folds of skin, some sneaking onto his chin and making the act all that much easier. Prying Teemo's thighs apart to further bury the cock in his mouth became a subconscious decision. Veigar tried to form a science to it: to regulate when to push deeper, pull up, take a breath, a lick, though his thoughts all turned to mush the more effort he dedicated to them. Sloppiness became an inevitability he chose to accept, his partner's begs feeding his ears and his desire in equal measure.

Finding his cheekbones growing sore from how hard they were being stretched, Veigar slid the red and veiny cock from his mouth. Examining it, he found it appropriately slick for where he planned to put it next. "Ha…Think you can ha-hazard a guess as to where this is going?" he teased breathlessly, wiping his face clean of any lingering spit with the back of his hand. "Imagine being so fortunate that I consider you worth the effort."

Ignoring the fact that he had feverishly wanted this all along, Veigar started to position himself over his pleasured partner, granting Teemo a view of his aching penis swinging before him as he struggled to get in place. Swearing Teemo had smiled childishly at his bumbling to get properly oriented, Veigar reestablished his dominance with a grip at Teemo's base, holding him upright at the perfect angle (or so Veigar believed). The mage was crouched so that he had a leg on either side of the scout, his ass puckered directly above Teemo's cock. Already its tip pressed against his eager ring, Veigar shivering in anticipation. Or perhaps that was simply him struggling to stay balanced given his current predicament.

"P-prepare yourse—your, ah, self!" Veigar cried, wobbling like a top losing its momentum.

Teemo looked up, puzzled. "Um…V-Vei, are you—"

"—Quiet!" His frustration only made the process of lowering himself at a reasonable pace all that much harder. "I j-just need a minute to—"

Pain shooting like a hex-rocket through his lower body shut him up. Veigar had noticed himself falling as a prologue to the horror that followed, that stabbing sensation that twisted his insides into a zipper-tight knot.

Veigar's first instinct was to let out a less than glamorous, "F-FUCK!" In a panicked rush to dislodge his partner from him, he tumbled backwards in a confused and writhing heap.

"Veigar!" Teemo leapt up as soon as Veigar's body would allow and joined him at his side. "Are you okay?!"

Veigar shut his eyes, left in disbelief by Teemo's naivety. "Do I sound fucking okay?!" Tears stung his eyes; tears he was quick to hide by shoving his face into the bedsheet. Teemo's body wrapped around his soon after, pained groans wracking his curled-up form periodically. Even after the lingering agony began to fade and the room grew quiet, Veigar did not move. He let himself be held and pet by the innocent yordle cuddling him but made no effort to lift his head, the shame a weight on his temple. A part of him wished Teemo would hold him closer, another screaming how much he wanted to be abandoned.

"…Veigar? Are you ready to talk about this?" Teemo whispered without ceasing his gentle rubbing at the mage's back. A stern quiet greeted him, and in response he ventured further. "It hurts me to see you like this, Vei. It's deep, like…it's like a poison." Veigar refused to budge, and Teemo sighed. "You didn't need to do that. To put yourself in a situation you're not comfortable with. I just don't understand if that was for my sake, or yours…"

"Precisely." Veigar finally brought his head high enough to see a hint of his partner's face. "You don't understand."

"Then help me to." Teemo took Veigar's hand and squeezed it. "Please, Veigar. I love you. And I swear I'm not as dense as you think I am."

"I don't think you're dense," Veigar murmured, his own hurt reflected in his tone. He took a deep breath, dreading what he was about to do next. Dreading what he was to reveal, provided he could make sense of it himself. He supposed he was already naked and shedding tears before the person he cared about most; you couldn't get much more exposed than that. "I have committed some terrible atrocities, Teemo. As you're more aware of than anyone, I'm sure. I never felt regret for my own transgressions until I met you. Really met you, those days our conversations began to show signs of something…genuine, I suppose."

At that moment Veigar shifted so he and Teemo were face to face, and he found himself staring into those infinite eyes once again. "However, the farther I stray from that heinous person I once was, the more I lose sight of what I aim to become. Often there are days I am unsure whether I want to be respected or feared, or both." He gripped the sheet in a shaking fist as if threatening to tear it off the bed. "After all this time, I've no idea of who I am, of which parts to keep and which to discard. I am rotten, Teemo, and how deep that rot runs is immeasurable to me. How much of myself must I cut away before it's enough?" His face softened, no longer clenched so tight, and the sheet slipped from his fingertips. Instead they met with flesh and fur, holding his lover's face steady. "And…once I've shed all that putridness…how much that's familiar will be left for you to love?"

Teemo made not a sound, his face a mask as he wiped away Veigar's tears. As he watched him, Veigar feared he had revealed too much for the scout to handle, every second a century as the words continued to evade him. "I'm sorry I can't give you the certainty you want, Vei." Teemo touched his lips to Veigar's, a gesture so brief it nearly drove Veigar to madness. "I can't tell you exactly who we'll become a year from now, five years, ten, a hundred. But I can promise I will be there beside you, every step of the way. And every step you and I take together, I will adore you twice as much as the one before it."

Veigar sensed his tears returning at a rapid rate. "Do you swear it?" he asked, not caring as they spilled forward onto his cheeks.

Teemo grinned and raised his right hand the best he could, given their position. "On my honor as a scout. Though, I'm not sure if it actually means anything while we're laying on our sides like this."

Veigar pressed his lips against Teemo's in a gentle, tender kiss. In that snapshot of an eternity it felt to Veigar as if the room littered with meaningless trinkets and the surface world above had disappeared, leaving a vast void of nothing but two yordles with a universe to share. "It means the world to me."

As they lay together, Veigar embraced a sense of ease that had hovered beyond his reach for as long as he could recall. The cage which surrounded him was not entirely gone, but had expanded: it encompassed another soul to share it with him, and with that companion's compassion it continued to grow ever outward. While his future may be murky the present was clear and inviting; Veigar and his scout held no worries taking comfort in their present.


End file.
